


He's the Dopest Trip

by captainisabela



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Biting, Blood Kink, Fight Club - Freeform, Frottage, Gun Kink, M/M, Making Out, Violence, i dont think theres anything else to tag but tell me if i miss smt ig, i wouldnt say its worth of an archive warning but there is a lil bit of graphic violence, masochist chan, sadist minghao, there was gonna be knife play too but i didnt get to it :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 06:58:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14732117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainisabela/pseuds/captainisabela
Summary: Chan loves to hurt.





	He's the Dopest Trip

**Author's Note:**

> *shades my face from the paparazzi* im so sorry

Chan’s head thudded into the brick wall, the force of the punch made him dizzy and he _loved_ it. He smiled, laughed a little, and if blood pooled in his mouth and dribbled down his chin, he didn’t pay it any mind. The hit was hard (just the way he liked it) and he heard a quiet _crack_ and Chan wasn’t sure if it was his jaw or another tooth. (he hopes it’s his jaw, because he’s sure his dentist would be disappointed in him coming back for a third time this month.) He loved coming here, to the fights behind the circle of abandoned buildings on the less fortunate side of town. Here, people played dirty, used their fists but brought knives and guns anyways, for when things got heated later on in the night. (Chan never stayed that long, he was reckless but not that reckless and somewhat valued his life.)

For the past few weeks, Chan has had a sort of rivalry, and he feels like tonight, it has hit its peak. He spits on the shoes of the kid in front of him, it was tangy and metallic as it left, and he licked his lips. He hoped the blood coating his teeth made him look as hot as he felt. And so what if he got off on it? Got off on the adrenaline of being hit and pushed, got off on the taste of blood in his mouth and bruises on his skin. (perhaps he was a masochist, but you didn’t hear that from him.) The boy in front of him gazes down, and then back up into Chan’s eyes. His chest was heaving, and he gasped when the boy gripped him by the hair and yanked his head back. (Chan pretends he didn’t moan, and the boy pretends he didn’t smile ((smirk really, but Chan has always hated that word)) and tug harder)

The tension between them started when this new kid came in and stole his spots in the ring. (the all out brawls like this were reserved for the weekends, and the weekends have always been Chan’s favourite part of the week anyways). He went by the name of ‘The 8’ here, and Chan thought it was annoying (but Chan wasn’t really one to talk, he’s been coming here since he was young and dumb, and has been going by Dino for the past few years) and Chan automatically _hated_ him. Had tried to fight him in the next brawl but was just brushed aside, laughed at. It pissed him off, he was tired of being treated as a child, had worked his ass off to get to where he was in the rankings. He couldn’t just let it slide, and maybe he did some reckless things to get The 8’s attention, and maybe that led to where they were right now.

“You’re acting awfully bold for someone in such a position, sweetheart.” Chan wants to punch him then, so bad, but gasps instead, feels something _cold and metal_ poke at his side, and _oh, that’s a gun._ He felt a spike of fear, but then it turned into something else, something similar but definitely different, and Chan’s jeans were getting a little tight. But even though they played a dangerous game here, they had the one unspoken rule that murder could not be committed, and the lines might be _very_ blurry, nobody has actually died here, and Chan felt (somewhat) safe. This whole ordeal was kind of based on trust, anyways, Chan wouldn’t let any stranger but these strangers ruin him like this, and it was seemingly the same for the rest of the regulars here. They were a fucked up and disturbed family and if Chan liked them more than his own family… well, he did.

So Chan just looks him in the eyes and spits again, and he watches as the blood lands just under The 8’s eye. He stares, stares until the butt of the gun forces him not to. It _hurts_ and Chan knows that the bruise that he’ll wake up with on his cheekbone tomorrow is going to be _lovely. ‘Brat.’_ the other mutters, and Chan laughs, just on the edge of alarming, and he feels like he can’t breathe, has so much energy in his body and there’s so much tension in the air, it’s wild.

“Is that all you got, _sweetheart?”_ He taunts, because that was the first time he’s ever been hit like that and he loves the hurt. The 8 does what he wants, bashes him over the other side of his face, and the pain doubles when his head snaps to the side and his already bruised cheek gets scraped on the brick. He grins, bloody, and his clothes were already stained with it. The 8 growls, grabs him by the throat and pushes him into the wall so hard that Chan’s teeth clack together, and kisses him. He bites at Chan’s mouth, laps at the blood over his lips until Chan opens them. It’s hot, so hot, the fingers around his neck and now he really can’t breathe, and Chan’s hips jerk.

“Such a slut,” The 8 whispers over his mouth, and the red string of saliva connecting them breaks. Chan chuckles shaking his head.

“You kissed me first, The 8.” He says it mockingly, because ‘The 8’ is just so ridiculous to say. “If anyone's a slut, it's you.”

“Minghao,” He corrects, dipping his head down to bite at Chan’s jaw. “And you seem to be enjoying this a lot more, _Dino._ He copies Chan’s tone, sliding the gun down to press at his crotch and _god_ , it takes everything Chan has in him not to moan. Minghao kisses him again and it’s so messy, spit and blood is smeared everywhere, he can still hear the fighting going on around them and it’s all just so _hot_ to Chan. He’s sure that he’s leaking now, and he sighs when Minghao bites at his neck, has a hand in his hair again and pulls, has the gun grazing just under his chin. He hopes that the safety is on.

“God, you love this so much, don’t you baby?” Minghao murmurs against his skin and his thigh slots between Chan’s. He grinds on it shamelessly. 

“Of course I do. Why else would I be here?”

“What a whore.” Chan whines, his fingers gripping onto Minghao’s shirt as he slaps him across the face. His skin tingles and he feels like he could explode, arousal is pulsing deep inside him. The gun trails down his jaw, caressing him, and he keeps his noises locked in his throat this time. Minghao watches as Chan’s eyes flutter closed. He leans in close, nipping at his collarbone, leaving marks that’ll bloom beautifully later on tonight. Chan’s hips roll harder, with more purpose, and Minghao laughs, slaps at his thigh and grips Chan’s wrists with one hand, holding them above his head so he can no longer touch him. “It’s funny how you think you’re the one in control here.” He smacks Chan with the gun again, relishes in the broken moan that slips out. The bruises from earlier that night are already starting to form, and it’s so pretty. “Cute.” He says, putting his gun away so that he can shove his hand in Chan’s jeans.

Chan whimpers, teary eyed, and it just hurts so bad, hurts so good, and he’s so hard and wet (Minghao tells him so) and _god_ it’s just good for him, he loves this so much. Minghao jerks him fast, has Chan gasping as he sucks marks onto his neck until the other can’t control his whines anymore, until he’s bucking his hips into Minghao’s hand and he so needy he can’t stop. It’s so endearing. Chan’s orgasm rips through him, and he feels as if his soul has ascended.

Minghao finds out that Chan cries when he cums. Really truly _sobs_ out his name and sniffles after, tears are rolling down his cheeks and he looks so pretty. Chan’s tongue lolls out when Minghao grips his hair and brings his hand to his mouth, dirtied with his cum. He licks it up obediently, the adrenaline seeped out of him with his orgasm and now he’s just tired. He sags against the wall, and Minghao kisses him one more time, and he pants afterwards. 

“I hope we can do this again next weekend, Chan.” He disappears.

Chan doesn’t ever remember giving Minghao his name, but he’s exhausted and cannot find it in himself to care. He doesn't think he minds anyways. His bruises hurt, and he rests for a minute before he cleans himself up begins to collect his things. Everything _hurts_ but Chan feels so fucking satisfied. It wasn’t often that he slept around, and especially not here, but god, he doesn’t regret it one bit. Perhaps Chan will be anticipating next weekend’s brawl.

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo if u liked this n wanna see more things like this go ahead n follow my [nsfw/fic twit ](www.nsfwsanggyun.twitter.com) thank u uwu


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